I'm really sorry that this one is so short. I've got a serious case of writers block. So far my efforts to cure me have just resulted in me eating a lot of sugar packets and listening to loud music. And for some reason sugar rush and adrenaline don't help me write. Helped me draw a bit though, but you don't care about that. Any way, I've run out of sugar now. Plus, it's probably really bad for me. If I can't come up with something for the next chapter, how about I just type a script off some tv show and change the names?
Now have an avocado.
Chapter 4
By morning the plan was all set. Harry had spent a while telling Hermionie he shouldn't do the hero storming the enemy thing, which he was so commonly blamed for.
"But Harry, it's your image, you go and just blindly attack Voldermort, risking your life, while I stand off and sell merchandise, and try to round up some cheerleaders. You really should thank me."
"Ron doesn't count as a cheerleader." Ron's smile fell from his face. Damn that unlicensed surgeon.
"Ok, well, Voldermort would think you were going to try something new, if he thinks you know about it, and not expect this."
"But he might think I was double bluffing."
"Or, he'll just kill Harry anyway." Ron had started feeling left out of the conversation, and thought this would get his beloveds attention again. It didn't.
"Fine, I've got a new plan." Hermionie gestured that they lean in closer, and began whispering quietly so you could only distinguish certain random words. "Whisper whisper Dumbledore whisper big whisper penis whisper shatter."
"Hermionie, how do you know we'll see his penis?" More whispering. "Eww, I'm not doing that." Whispered death threats. "Ok, when you put it like that."
Draco sat on his bed. Something wasn't right. This was the third time he had woken up singing, and his house mates were starting to throw things at him. Mostly cuddly toys, but they had the odd chain and whip too. Well, Slytherins are famous for being the kinkiest house. He quickly stored them away in his trunk before going down to breakfast. He needed all the strength he could get to muster up all the strength he can get to salvage all the strength he (I think you get the point) to dare lure Harry's cute butt (not to mention the rest of him) into the forest tonight. Plus, today was pancake day.
Ron was lying face down in his breakfast again while Hermionie argued with Harry, peacefully fantasizing about himself and Harry getting married. Well, he would be if Harry's crying didn't wake him up.
"But 'Mionie, why do you have to be so mean?" he sobbed while subconsciously reaching for Ron's hand under the table for some much needed comfort.
"All I said was you should call me something cool like Flirtatious G, or Hormionie Grander? 'Mionie is so boring."
"But the fun thing is we can call you Her Royal 'Mionie the Queen. How about we move onto the artist formally known as 'Mionie. Every one likes to laugh at people changing their name in an effort to be cool."
"Oh, you can talk about being cool, Ron!" 'Mionie/Flirtatious G huffed as Ron managed to butt into the conversation. (Trust me, I really don't have a butt fetish). Harry sat in the corner and cried.
"Hey Ron, how did Harry find a corner while still sitting at the table here in the great hall? Is some evil afoot?"
"What, an evil foot! Fear not Harry, I will save you! But first, does this foot have any secret powers, like Extreme Athletes Foot? Or Fun Fun Fungus?"
"Ron, have you been preparing your conversations again?"
"Yeah, look, I have the script all prepared. Next I want you to give me an excuse to pick up Harry and carry him to safety."
Harry, who having previously walked back to the conversation after hearing his name, looked puzzled at this. "Huh?"
"Oh Harry. You and Ron are so infrequent. Now. Do we have the plan ready?"
"Yes, I pick up Harry and carry him to the bedroom..."
"No, the other plan. Never mention that plan again."
"Fine." And they all sat in a little circle and proceeded to snort their sugar. Much muttering and sneezing could be heard from the group.